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JANUARY, 1920 



To All Our Readers — 

The Happiest of 
New Years! 

From the many kind words of appreciation we receive 
from subscriber-friends, we feel we may truthfully say 
that our Subscribers will have at least a somewhat Hap- 
pier New Year than those who are not members of The 
Tatler Music Club. 

“ Why,” do we hear you ask? 

Because of the good cheer The Tatler will bring them 
each month and the many pleasurable moments they will 
derive from the twelve “dandy” song-hits that will ac- 
company the Magazine on its trips. 

And all this happiness will have cost them but ONE 

Join, then, our merry Circle by filling out at once the 
coupon found on the last page of this number. 

Remember that membership in the Tatler Music Club entitles 
you to a copy of The Tatler and a corking popular song hit each 
month. Dues only one dollar a year! 

Back numbers obtainable at ten cents each 

Please notify us immediately of your change of address, men- 
tioning both old and new address. 




Published Monthly by the Tatler Publishing Company 
209 West 48th Su, New York City 

What D’ye Mean — "Happy New Year? 


T HE first ice-cream-soda New Year was a great success with those who had 
something else in the cellar. 

One Broadwayite says he hasn’t anything to swear off any more except his 

Beginning with the New Year the bartenders in the drug store soda emporiums 
agree to put on a clean apron every other Wednesday instead of every third Wed- 
nesday as has been the custom. 

Among the Follies of 1920 will be $l.25-per-dozen eggs. 

There was a man in our town and he was wondrous wise. He put away a lot 
of stuff and kept it to himself. 

There will be only 366 days in this year but it is going to seem a lot longer. 

But to those who are accustomed to getting over the obstructions on Broadway 
every year is Leap Year. 

Owing to the fact that the world did not come to an end in 1919 as predicted 
the price of silk shirts will be 30 per cent higher in 1920. 

If everybody would agree to set his clock one day ahead every day, we would 
soon be through with 1920 and be ready for another New Year celebration. 

On New Year's eve the tables in the restaurants used to be reserved, but now 
the customers are. 

Those who had already reached the back cover didn’t turn over a new leaf 
this year. 

The divorce court records show that it was also somewhat of a Scrappy New 

Several of our leading hotels changed the roller towels on the First. Wring 
out the old, wring in the new. 

On account of the paper shortage the cafe prices will be fifteen per-cent higher 
this year. 

Statistics are wonderful: If all the people who are in favor of another war 
to make the world safe for the profiteers were gathered together they would almost 
fill a telephone booth. 

A good many wise birds did their Christmas shopping before the first of July. 



Everybody's Singing Them 

\ T E told you so/’ says we. 

VV “Old stuff,” says you, “ told you 

“ Told you last March that this winter 
would see the popular song business reach 
a degree of prosperity never even dreamed 
of before.” 

44 Gosh, you hit it right,” says you. 

Hit it right is right. The national air to- 
day is the popular song. Publishers are at 
a loss where to get the paper to print them 
on, and dealers in records and piano rolls 
can’t keep up with the demand. 

And — a significant thing — along with this 
swelling of song sales has come a wide- 
spread demand for higher priced songs — 
songs of higher standard and quality. The 
demand for the ten-cent song is expected to 
continue, of course, too. Song lovers are 
calling more and more for a better grade of 
songs, such as 44 By-Lo,” 44 Down by the 
Meadow Brook” and 44 Bless My Swanee 
River Home.” These songs and songs like 
44 Out of a Clear Sky,” are selling like ice in 
Hades. 44 By-Lo ” will probably outsell 
every ten-cent song this season. 


I T appears that even in these days of 
common sense and practicability women 
are allowing vanity to rule them. The 
fact that there were only three girls who 
answered the following advertisement is 
significant : 

GIRL wanted — one who Is bow-legged — to 
play part of country girl in theatrical pro- 
duction ; previous experience unnecessary. 
423 Putnam Building, Times Square. 

Just three put their vanity in their 
pockets and answered the advertisement. 

44 We might have been misled a few sea- 
sons ago,” said G. Gordon Bostock, who is 
conducting the quest, 44 for then the fash- 
ions were such that they concealed the ex- 
tremities of the fair sex, but now they 
can’t fool us. You just have to walk down 
the street to get a pretty good idea whether 
or not a girl is bow-legged now 
> 44 I thought, of course, that it would be 
a simple task to find some one for the 
place and believed that after the 4 ad ’ ap- 
peared my office would be filled. Why, 
when I came in this morning a lot of the 
men I know were lined up in the lobby 
waiting for the procession to start, but it 
didn’t start and it looks like I am going 
to have some trouble filling the place.” 

The demand for better songs is in keep- 
ing with the public taste these days. People 
are calling for better clothing, better shoes, 
better food. It’s almost impossible for 
dealers to sell cheap cuts of meat nowadays. 
Everybody seems to have money and are 
spending it galore. Theatres are jammed, 
movie entertainments are crowded and 
more theatres are going up all the time. 
Vaudeville is enjoying unprecedented popu- 
larity and ahead of them all flourishes the 
popular song. 

A few months ago if you had told 
a music publisher that by now a thirty- 
cent song would outsell a ten-cent song 
he’d have called you crazy, if he had 
deigned to make any reply at all. But it’s 
a fact. 

One of the big publishers in looking over 
a general order slip one day last week was 
amazed to note that in a 25,000 copy order 
only ten per cent were of the popular or 
ten-cent type and less than a year ago this 
same publisher did not have a high priced 
number in his catalogue. 

pHANNING POLLOCK, the play- 
^ wright, plainly shocked the members of 
the Browning Society of Philadelphia at 
its recent meeting and took an awful wallop 
at the stage, producers and managers in 
his lecture on 44 Psychologists and the Stage 
To-day.” His listeners first tittered, then 
followed, 44 Ohs,” 44 Ahs ” and even 44 Oofs,” 
as he hurled barbed shafts in all directions. 

“There is less psychology than physiol- 
ogy on the American stage today,” spake 
Pollock. 44 There are fewer lines said than 
lines displayed and the only uplift is the 
kind invested by Flo Ziegfeld. There is no 
such thing as 4 an art of the drama/ 

44 Of all the theatrical managers who 
crowd New York, only six have read a 
book in their lives. Those six are bank- 
rupt. Most of the impresarios are gradu- 
ated cloak and suit dealers, furriers and 
window washers. 

44 The other day one of them heard that 
Oliver Twist would make a good moving 
picture and said to his agent, ‘Cable that 
guy Dickens for the American rights/” 

44 In filming one of Mark Twain’s stories 
the head of a big film concern objected to 
the title 4 Puddinhead Wilson/ saying they 
might get in bad with Washington with a 
title like that” 



The Rise of “Ivory' Jones 


Synopsis of Preceding Chapters: Alvin Jones, who had been dubbed “Ivory” 
when piano player in Mike Moriarty’s East Side saloon, made his first hit when 
he wrote “ You're All The World to Me” and attracted the attention of Angela 
Winthrop, an heiress. Jones struggled through the various vicissitudes of a 
song-writer's life until he was given an opportunity to zvritc three songs in a 
Broadway musical show . Under the guidance of Dan Kellogg , a lyric writer , 
Jones, though reluctantly began treading the primrose path and was much sought 
after by Corinne St. Clair the leading woman in his own show. He was rescued 
from a Broadway restaurant fight by Mike Moriarty who had kept a fatherly eye 
on him. Mike also rescued him from the police station and took him to his own 
hotel away down town. 


T VORY JONES woke up next morning in 
Moriarty’s bed in a hotel hard by Mike’s 
place in Chatham Square and Mike was 
in bed with him. 

Jones’s mind was a queer jumble of 
hangover, vain regrets and mysterious 
imaginings. But suddenly a clear thought 
shot through his brain. He shook big 
Mike into consciousness. 

“My car,” he almost shrieked. “I sold 
my car to somebody in the restaurant.” 
“Sure ye did, me lad. You needed the 
dough and you sold it for $300. You 
sold it to one of the byes from my place 
who was up there with me. It’s over 
back of the saloon now, waitin’ for ye.” 
“How did you happen to be there, tell 
me that,” demanded Jones. 

“I didn’t happen to go there,” replied 
Mike. “I went there on purpose. One 
of me byes who happened to be there 
telephoned me that you was accumulatin' 
a bun and it looked sorta stormy, so it’s 
me up there in a cab. That’s all.” 

“No, it’s not all. How did your man 
happen to be there?” 

“Why bless your sowl, me bye, I’ve 
known where you been every night since 
you wrote that show. I don’t let no 
graduate of my music hall go wrong if 
I can help it and you’re my only gradu- 
ate. Now git up and tie some beefsteak 
on that lamp.” 

“But ” began Jones. 

“Shut up Ivory I want a few more 
winks of sleep — but one thing — cut out 
the wimmen and the primrose thing and 
get down to work. Taps for you after 
the show every night.” 

“That’s an idea,” replied Jones hazily. 
“So it is,” said Mike. “Think it over.” 

The telephone in Mike’s room rang and 
Mike scrambled out of bed. 

“Something wrong down to the place,” 
he exclaimed. “It happens every time I 
go slummin’ up town.” 

“Hallo, hallo,” he shouted into the 

“This is Finnegan from the Central Of- 
fice,” replied the phone. 

“Yes, yes, Jerry. Has anybody been 
kilt in my place?” 

“No, Mike, but have you seen a guy 
named Jones this morning? The Sarge 
said you took him home with you last 

“Sure. He’s here now. Drop in.” 

“I’ll be right over.” 

Mike slammed up the receiver and re- 
garded Jones closely. Jones, now thor- 
oughly terrified, could only stammer a 
question: “W-w-what’s wrong?” 

“You’re framed, me bye, that’s what’s 
wrong. Old Man Merwin of Merwin & 
Betts, the crookedest song producer the 
world has ever known, always said he 
would get you for dodgin’ his contract. 
If he hasn’t framed you, you can take 
my head for a football. You didn’t hit 
the old guy last night, did you?” 

“I d-d-don’t remember,” stammered 
Jones. In fact he didn’t remember. 

“Well, if that ould diwle ain’t at the 
bottom of this, I’m a liar and nobody 
can call me that but meself. Sit tight now 
and keep your clepper shut and we'll hear 
what Finnegan has to say.” 

There was a knock at the door. 

“It ain’t locked” yelled Mike. “Why 
the hell don’t you come in?” 

Finnegan walked in and looked around, 
( Continued on next page) 




( Continued from page 3) 
every inch the hand-picked detective, and 
then looking at Jones he said: 

“Are you one Alvin Jones ?” 

“Y-y-yes,” replied Jones. His brain had 
gone on a vacation. 

“Well, they want you down on Center 
street. The chief wants a few words wit' 
you. Come along quiet-like.” 

“Wait a minute Jerry, what's the big 
idea?” demanded Mike. 

“Sam Havlin was hurt pretty- bad in 
that fight last night. He’s one of Mer- 
vvin’s song boosters, you know. Well, he 
claims this guy poked him and he is in 
such shape that he ain’t liable to 
recover .” 

“I knew it,” roared Mike. “It’s a frame- 
up. This guy never hit Havlin hard enough 
to muss up his hair. If anybody gave 
him the nighty-night, it was me. I hit 
him so hard that I thought I wasn’t going 
to get my fist back.” 

“Tell that to the judge, Mike,” replied 
Finnegan. “You’re just tryin’ to gum up 
the cards and mix the evidence. Merwin 
says there were a hundred witnesses who 
saw this Jones put Havlin out.” 

“And they were all stewed to the eye- 
balls,’ interrupted Mike. “A grand lot of 

“Well, I don’t try the case, I just round 
up the guy, that’s all.” 

“And where did you say Havlin is now?” 
asked Mike, a look of keen discernment 
in his steel-gray eyes. Jones stared at 
Mike pleadingly, helplessly. 

“He’s in a hospital,” replied Finnegan. 
“What hospital?” 

“A private hospital.” 

“I thought so. And who got the 
doctors ?” 

“Merwin did.” 

“I thought so and who got the bulls on 
the job?” 


“And you say Havlin is goin’ to croak?” 
“Sure thing.” 

“Like Kelly is,” snorted Mike. 

‘Anyhow, come along, Jones,” said Fin- 
negan, taking the young man by the arm. 

“Go along wit’ him, lad,” said Mike. 
“They want to get this charge against you 
to kill you in New York — they want to 
get it into the papers, that’s all.” 

And that is exactly what happened. The 
fairly well-known name of Alvin Jones was 
connected with a case of probable man- 
slaughter by several of the afternoon papers 
and the young man himself, dejected and 

forlorn spat out maledictions against an 
unkind fate from a cell at Headquarters. 

It was the end of the world for Alvin 
Jones and he knew it. 

But Mike Moriarty didn’t know it. This 
strange individual didn’t reckon much with 
fate. He got his wherever he could find it. 

Five minutes after Jones had departed 
with the detective, Mike was seated behind 
the cigar stand in his saloon. He could 
not think anywhere else. 

He chewed a long black cigar viciously 
and scowled. Two or three early custom- 
ers who came in for their shot of Third 
Rail spoke to him but he saw them not. 
The agile brain of Mike Moriarty was do- 
ing aerial stunts and ground and lofty 
tumbling and well it might for he was al- 
most out of his depth. A ward heeler and 
politician, he could handle ordinary cases, 
but an incipient manslaughter case was just 
beyond him and he knew it. For fifteen 
minutes he wrestled with the problem and 
then a look of intelligence came into the 
far-away eyes. 

He reached for the telephone book and 
called a number. 

“Hello, is this the Donovan Detective 
Agency — Yes? — Well, this is Mike Mor- 
iarty. I want you to sind me down quick, 
the best lookin’ guy you got around the 
place. I want one that can talk English 
and don’t wear a red necktie and chew 
tobacco. I want one that is there wit’ the 
society stuff, see? — Yes. — Now don’t send 
me a guy that looks like a bull or a 
butcher or a dockwalloper. Get me? — All 

Within ten minutes the emissary from the 
private detective bureau arrived. His 
name was Morgan, he looked as though 
he had just stepped out of a clothing ad- 
vertisement and he was a college gradu- 
ate. A fraternity pin peeped forth modestly 
from behind the lapel of his vest. His 
eyes were bright and smiling, his teeth 
regular and one could fairly see the writh- 
ing ot the old football muscles beneath the 
shoulders of his coat as he moved. 

Mike took a mental invoice and made 
up his mind that Morgan would do. 

In three minutes he had retailed the 
whole story to the detective — the story of 
Jones, his impending disgrace and the 
frame-up. Then he drew Morgan closer 
and in a husky whisper, said: “There is a 
swell girl up-town named Angela Win- 
throp ” 

“I know her,” said Morgan. 

“You know her?” gasped Mike. 

( Continued on page 6 ) 



Breezes from Broadway 

S OMEONE saw Sam Lewis in a Methodist church the other day. Come to find out 
the minister owed him $50 and Sam was taking it out in trade. 

* * * 

Maurice Abrams* nephew took college examinations last fall. 

“ How’d he come out?” someone asked Abrams. 

44 Fine, fine,” said Abrams, 44 he failed/' 

* * * 

Ted Snyder says his idea of no sort of job is that of husband to a lady cop. 

* * * 

Owing to the trend of the times a good many boarding-house keepers’ husbands 
around Times Square have had to go to work. 

Walter Douglas' idea of the champion optimist of the world is the man who will 
eat roasted chestnuts in the dark. 

* * * 

Broadway chickens who wear silk stockings and short skirts know the value of 

* * * 

Rube registered at a Broadway hotel the other day. 

“ Do you want a room with a bath ? *' asked the clerk. 

“ No,” replied the rube, 44 don't callate I’ll be here Saturday night.” 

* * * 

Speaking of the high price of shoes the other day, Joe Young said he had worn 
his shoes so thin that if he stepped on a dime he could tell which side was up. 

* * * 

Show girls arc securing dogs to accompany them on their walks up Broadway to 
match their costumes. There has been no great demand for hairless Mexican dogs as 
yet, but — 

* * * 

Nobody goes away and leaves the cellar door open nowadays. 

* * * 

Walter Donaldson met an old friend on the street the other day who looked dejected 
and none too prosperous. 

44 What’s the matter?” asked Walter. 

44 I’ve just lost $10,000 and my wife has left me.” 

44 Well,” asked Walter, 41 what have you got to kick about?” 

* * * 

Pete Wendling says if there is anything in the Bible touching on the present styles 
of women’s dress it must be in the Book of Revelations. 

* * * 

Harry Ruby doesn't dare to take out an insurance policy payable to his wife because 
she has such good luck. 

* * * 

Edgar Leslie complains that the short skirts women are wearing these days is 
bewildering. He says it isn't safe any more to take what you think is a little girl on 
your lap. 




(Continued from page 4) 

“Her brother was a classmate of mine. 
I’m not a regular detective, you know. I’m 
just getting the ins and outs of the game 
for a play I’m writing/' 

“I thought there was something wrong 
wit’ youse,” said Mike, “but, listen. This 
Angela person has been interested in Jones 
and I want you to go and tell her the 
truth— diplomatic-like, you know, and if 
you can't see her, look up her brother 
Henry. If their old man, wit’ all his in- 
fluence can’t get that kid out of the hoose- 
gow inside of twenty-four hours, I’m a 

“I’m on my way,” said the detective. 

“Will ye have a little something before 
you go?” asked Mike. 

Morgan hesitated, then looked at the 
good-natured face of the red giant and 
realized that the latter would be disap- 
pointed if he did not accept the hospitality 

“Well, I might take a Bronx cocktail,” he 

“A what?” demanded Mike. 

“A Bronx,” repeated Morgan. It was 
a new drink at that time and the first mixed 
drink that had ever been called for in 
Mike’s place. 

“Pete,” yelled Mike to his bartender, 
“Make this gent a Bronnix cocktail and 
put everything in it except the cash 

Morgan swallowed the deadly concoc- 
tion and departed and Mike resumed his 
seat behind the cigar counter and scowled 
murderously at the afternoon editions 
which had just come in and which con- 
tained the story of Jones’s disgrace. 

Morgan was diplomatic. So diplomatic, 
in fact that he did not see Angela Win- 
throp at all. Instead, he went down town 
and saw her brother. Henry immediately 
hurried home and saw Angela and every 
good impulse in that young lady’s heart was 
stirred by the grievous wrong which had 
been perpetrated on the song-writer. 

As a result of the interview Jones had 
a caller in his lonely cell at Headquarters 
that afternoon — said caller being Henry 
Winthrop. Henry, for the first time really 
sympathized with Jones. He told him that 
steps were being taken to accomplish his 
release and vindication, although on ac- 
count of the serious nature of the charge 
and the need of a thorough investigation 
by the police, this operation might take 
several days. 

Before leaving Henry gave Jones a small 
pink, scented note. 

He had hardly left the cell door before 
Jones had torn it open and devoured the 
few lines it contained. 

“Dear Mr. Jones: 

“We are all so sorry to hear of the trouble 
for which 1 personally know you are not 
responsible. We will do all we can and 
will be successful in our efforts to vindi- 
cate you, I am very sure. You have my 
best wishes for a brilliant future in the 
profession to which you are so singularly 
fitted. Wishing you the best in the world, 

I remain your friend, 

“Angela Winthrop.” 

Jones read the small missive three times, 
placed it in his inside vest pocket, lay 
down and for the first time it seemed to 
him in a year he went to sleep. 

It was a busy week for everybody but 
Jones. The only thing of importance that 
happened to him was the arrival of a small 
bouquet of violets bearing a card with the 
name of Angela Winthrop. Corinne St. 
Clair called twice but he refused to see her. 

But this did not disturb Corinne for she 
accomplished the purpose of her visits. She 
was interviewed by the reporters and two 
of the papers used her picture. She failed 
to deny the allegation that the young man 
who was held in the bastile was her af- 
fianced husband. In fact she rather en- 
couraged the rumor. 

Mike Moriarty was the heart and center 
of the fight that was being waged to bring 
about a dismissal of Jones. His first lieu- 
tenant was Morgan and his second lieu- 
tenant w»as Henry Winthrop. Back of them 
all was Old Man Winthrop, who had been 
dragged into the thing by his daughter. 
After the first day the Old Man was fight- 
ing mad and he swore that he would spend 
every dollar he had on earth to free Jones 
and bring about a vindication in the news- 

As for Merwin of Merwin and Betts, 
who had brought all the trouble on the 
head of Ivory Jones, he had few peaceful 
moments. He was shadowed and haunted 
by the most villainous gang of thugs in 
New York, gentlemen of dark drab pasts 
who made their headquarters in the neigh- 
borhood of Mike’s place. 

In a business way he was hectored and 
annoyed by higher-ups to whom he had 
to look for financial support. This was 
the business of Detective Morgan and his 
old college chum Henry Winthrop. 

(To Be Concluded) 



Pity the Poor Stage Child ren 


Y OU never can tell where the clammy 
hand of reform is going to feel around 
next. It moves in a mysterious way its 
blunders to perform. Just now it’s after 
the poor stage children again, those over- 
worked, underpaid, half-starved, shabby, 
neglected kids who are driven before the 
foot-lights and flogged into entertaining 
the public. The poor kids ! Some of them 
work as much as three hours a day and 
for that don’t get more than $150 or $200 
a week. They have nothing to wear but 
furs and nothing to eat but thick steaks, 
duck, butter, milk, eggs and such frugal 
humble fare. So under-nourished are 
some of these children that they have no 
more color in their cheeks than a ripe 

So the reformer, who has no business 
but that of other people’s, and who is never 
happy unless preventing other people from 
doing things that they do not happen to 
want to do themselves, are trying to kick 
the child actor off the stage — into the fac- 
tory, presumably. 

For instance, they closed David Belasco’s 
“ Daddies ” in Chicago. In this show are 
five charming children who delighted New 
York all last season. 

Now, we don’t know Mr. Belasco, and 
never expect to ; we never even met him, 
nor do we expect to; we have never sub- 
mitted a play to him, nor do we aspire to; 
we don’t even know his press agent, nor 
his man-servant, nor his maid-servant, nor 
his ox* nor his ass, nor anything that is 
Belasco’s. We merely cite the closing of 
“ Daddies ” as another instance of the mis- 
erable meddling on the part of hypocritical, 
hysterical reformers who have taken the 
task of redeeming the world out of the 
hands of the Almighty, believing they can 
do a better job themselves. 

These same people who think that the 
atmosphere of the stage is immoral never 
make a move against nasty bedroom farces 
or salacious plays where the youth can sit 
in the audience and lap up more immoral- 
ity in an evening than you could make a 
child understand in a year. 

How can a child absorb immoral ideas 
behind the stage? Anyone who knows the 
actors and actresses of today knows that 
they are painstakingly careful about what 
they say or do in front of the young per- 
formers. Why, a child will pick up more 
rotten ideas and filthy notions in the pub- 

lic schools or on the street in one week 
than they could in a year “back stage.’’ 

We do not claim that there is no im- 
morality behind the scenes. Of course 
there is, the same as there is in the audi- 
ence and everywhere else, except in nur- 
series and old ladies’ homes. The point is, 
no one who knows the real conditions will 
deny that children’s morals are safer there 
than in schools, on the street, or at a Sun- 
day school picnic. They are always care- 
fully guarded as to health and morals and 
have every comfort. In fact, if any ob- 
jection could be raised it would be that 
some of them are “spoiled” by constant 
attention and care. 

Half the leading actresses of today be- 
gan a stage career at the age of five or six, 
and they’re not exactly what you might 
call social outcasts any more than mil- 
liners, dressmakers, nurses, salesladies, 
stenographers, some wives — and lots of 

The various societies who closed “ Dad- 
dies ” invoked the Child Labor law to ac- 
complish their purpose. According to this 
law a youngster cannot be worked after 7 
o’clock in the evening. They can work all 
day but not in the evening. So along came 
the carping reformers who say that these 
children who have been taking it easy all 
day long cannot appear on the stage two or 
three hours of an evening, simply because 
the law says that children can’t work after 
7 o’clock. All laws should be subject to 
reason and sensible interpretation, but 
these people have no sense, so what can 
you expect? 

The five children in “ Daddies ” are w’ell 
taken care of, well fed and clothed, work 
under ideal conditions and are all accom- 
panied by their mothers. Their work is 
not arduous, it comes easy and natural to 
them, they enjoy it and surely the public 
appreciates it. The child actors and act- 
resses have their place in the world and it’s 
about time that lawmakers should recog- 
nize, and reformers should be compelled to 
recognize, the difference between children 
working in factories and children playing 
on the stage. 

To comprehend fully the spirit of the re- 
former today you have only to contem- 
plate his progenitor, the Puritan. The 
Puritans came here from England to avoid 
religious persecution, they said. They 
( Continued on page 10) 


J \ n. . . 

pET?T j 




A K*C P^KKjK’cjTOjT 




ou re a 

Million Miles From Nowhere 

The greatest 
ballad of the New 
Year. You're a mil- 
lion miles from no- 
where, and also 
you’re nobody if 
you haven’t this 
song at home. A 
song that will 
make 11)20 famous. 

Words by Joe 
Yount i and Sam. 
M. Leiris. Music 
by Walter Donald- 

You’re a mil - lion mile* from no - where, When you’re 

one lit - tie mile from home; It’s the song of 

Moth ~ ers tears, That keeps ring - ing in your 

ears. You just leave the gates of Hcav en, 

Copyright. 1919, Waterson. Berlin & Snyder Co. 

( Continued from page 7) 
wanted to practice their religion as they 
saw fit, to enjoy religious tolerance. But 
as fast as anyone else followed them over 
here they jolly well had to worship and 
conduct themselves as the Puritans dic- 
tated or there was trouble. The Puritans 

wanted to worship as they chose and they 
chose to have everybody worship as they 
did. They refused to allow others to en- 
joy what they themselves had left England 
to get — religious tolerance. The Puritans 
tolerated no tolerance to others. Hence, 
your modern reformer. 




A Great Picture — A Great Song 
T T is not such a rare thing for a wonder- 
■** ful production to inspire an author to 
write a song. That has been done time 
and time again, but for a song to inspire 
an actor to put into a role that sentiment 
which comes alone to the musical is un- 
usual. And yet had it not been for the 
haunting melody of “ Heart Strings,” the 
song, William Farnum, star of a thousand 
photoplays, actor of twenty years stage ex- 
perience, would not have put into the hero 
of “ Heart Strings,” the picture, that feel- 
ing, that sentiment, that artistic touch 
which will make it one of the photoplay 
sensations of the new year. 

As a boy William Farnum was a violinist. 
When he read “ Heart Strings ” he decided 
that to do full credit to the hero he must 
have the inspiration of some melody, some 
song that would touch the human, sympa- 
thetic chord in everyone. And so he sent 
for Herman Holland and asked him to 
read the story and to build from it a song 
which would serve the great actor as an 
inspiration. The result was “ Heart 

When Mr. Farnum heard the song, he 
told his director that under its inspiration 
he could make the hero of the photoplay 
just what he should be, a genius of the 
violin who at the pinnacle of his career 
gives up everything, a willing and a loving 
sacrifice for a younger sister. And that is 
just what Farnum has done, and done 

“ Heart Strings ” is to the screen what 
“ The Music Master ” was to the stage. As 
the role enacted by David Warfield on the 
stage has become a classic so will William 
Farnum’s hero role of Pierre Le Grand make 
screen history, for it is an outstanding 
figure, a big, human, unselfish and inspir- 
ing character. 

A representative of Waterson, Berlin and 
Snyder Co., heard “ Heart Strings ” being 
played at the Fox studio. He immediately 
recognized it as a song that should be given 
to the public, for if it was inspiring the 
great Farnum to do his greatest work, why 
would it not inspire and thrill and move 
others? Accordingly arrangements were 
made for the publication of the song, which 
is about to start on its career as one of the 
season’s song successes. 


A Mammoth Undertaking 

IN a recent issue we told you that plans 
A were under way to picturize the Bible. 
Facts about the tremendous undertaking 
were scarce at the time but we are able to 
give you more of the details now, and they 
are extremely interesting. The project is 
the brain-child of Dick Ferris, promoter 
of circuses and spectacles. He outlines his 
plans as follows: 

“lam promoting a Holy City, to be built 
in the San Fernando Valley, less than 15 
miles from Los Angeles. It will be a re- 
plica of the scriptural Jerusalem in every 
detail, and will have a population of thous- 
ands of residents, each made up to repre- 
sent and living the life of a biblical char- 
acter. We will have Moses, all the 
prophets, saints and sinners of the Talmud 
and Genesis on the ground. 

“We will have six Christs — of various 
ages— representing the Savior from the 
manger to the cross. There will be asses 
and other animals, trained to do their 
duties according to the Book.” 

Various men of influence and money are 
being approached for their support, moral 
and financial, of the undertaking, among 
them John D. Rockefeller, who may put 
in a million dollars toward financing the 
picture. It will take at least $5,000,000 
original capital and after that no one 
knows how much for maintenance. 

“The revenue,” Ferris explains, “is to 
be derived in three or four ways. Admis- 
sion will be charged the year around for 
entering the city, and I am certain minis- 
ters and others deeply interested in Bible 
matters will make pilgrimages there as 
they have done to Oberamergau. For two 
or three weeks annually we propose to give 
the Passion Play. But the big punch is 
the picture possibilities. 

“We intend to start at the first page of 
the Bible and go through to the last, pic- 
turing the scenes and using the text in 
type. These will be released to churches, 
as they will be non-sectarian, following 
absolutely the original Bible matter and 
just as acceptable, therefore, as the Testa- 
ments, themselves. 

“ For Sunday schools this unending 
series will be invaluable. 

“ We have no intention of offering them 
at any time to theatres; they arc to be 
strictly biblical and, as far as possible, 



Called an " indi- 
go fan tan ie " — you 
know, a “ blues,” 
and the baby of 
them all. Should 
have been named 
“ Baby Blues.” A 
“ blues ” that will 
cure the blues. 

“Slow and Easy 


Bat take It slaw 
So -walk it 

If you 

' i J Jid 

f-MHiaf i j u i 

* i fw I 

' |» F r I 1 = 

want to get a - long with me. 1 said go slow 


eas • y as s man can be. 

I’m s la - dy. pare and sweet. Bat 

Words by Harry 
Williams. Music by 
X orman Spencer, 

- ■ »===-yi^=^= 

1 f 

1 i k | 
jgp-C- — 

88 j-^-u | f w 

P v P .J.ii 

"shim nee** op a lit * tie while I r 

like a lit * tie beer (I mean a l 

JHi~A ' * ■ J =E 

eat my • feet. Go 
em • on • ade.) Go 

A A 

— 1 — r ■ ^ 

slow and 

slow and 

l 1 1 | 

Ijjj 3 J ! 

et* 1 1 



A bi 

= 1? : ' t^~ 


Copyright, 1919, Waterson, Berlin & Snyder Co. 


TRANCING was invented to provide 
some respectable method of hugging, 
and Noah — we don’t remember whether 
that was his first or his last name — pre- 
served all of those animals in the Ark so 
that we would have something to name 
our modern dances after. 

It seems strange that a modest maiden 
that will reprove the fellow sitting beside 
her on the stoop because he attempts to 
grapple with her hand, will allow him to 
take her upon a well-lighted ballroom 
floor, encircle his arms about her anatomy, 
hold her up against his vest pockets and 
do the grizzly bear. Then he is all the 
whirled to her. 

Some of the modem fays who trip the 
light fantastic make a great deal of money 
dancing, yet we learn that even in Biblical 
days maidens danced for a prophet. 

At balls of brewery associations the 
dances are hops. We do not care rabbit 
about the Bunny Hug. 


\>f USIC was invented so that Beethoven, 
Handel, Chopin and all of the other 
composers would have an excuse for wear- 
ing long hair and saving the expense of 
being barbercued. 

Music is used at weddings to make a 
man forget what he is going into, and it is 
played at funerals to make widows forget 
the easy jobs they are losing. If there 
was no music half of Broadway could 
close up and 2,319,874 chorus girls would 
have to go to work. While the bass drum 
player doesn’t carry much weight it takes 
many pounds to run up the scale. It is 
the man with the brass plates that leads 
the cymbal life. 

It can be truthfully said that a profes- 
sional harmonica player lives from hand 
to mouth. A banjo player cannot claim to 
make his living with the pick. The Irish 
harp on playing a stringed instrument. 
Serenaders frequently guitar and feathers. 

Among the great composers are ether 
and chloroform. 



“Dixie s Rolling Stone’' 

Dix-ie's lit -tie roll-ing stone is 

roll-ing right home to dear old m 



x • ie, 



m — 1«\ m 

i Jee+e 



T ■ - - * 

Her© Is a sons: 
that will make 
you forget your 
Christinas bills and 
that's all you 
could ask of any 
song. As Silk Hat 
Harry says, ** It’s 
a dude.'* 

Words and music 
by Arthur lichim 
and Harry Jolson 
(o brother o] AVs) 


The demand for records and piano rolls 
has so increased the last few months that 
all the larger and progressive music 
publishing concerns have found it necessary 
to appoint some person to handle exclusive- 
ly their dealings with recording companies. 

The Watcrson, Berlin and Snyder Com- 
pany has selected Edward B. Bloedon, 
one of the best known figures in the music 
world, to handle this end of their business. 
To illustrate to what extent the demand 
for popular rolls and records has grown 
it is only necessary for you to glance over 
the releases on another page, nearly 50 of 
them in one month, all of which happen to 
be Waterson, Berlin and Snyder songs. To 
arrange for all these is enough to keep one 
man busy. He has to put in more hours 
than a miner does these days, anyway. 


“Another ‘Mickey!’” is the verdict of 
those who have heard Anita Stewart’s 
latest song, “ In Old Kentucky,” inspired 
by the massive motion picture in which the 
dainty star is appearing, and there seems 
to be no reason why both the picture and 
the song should not even excel the tre- 
mendous popularity of “ Mickey.” 

Twenty-seven years of continuous road- 
showing is behind the dramatic play “In 
Old Kentucky ” and the motion picture was 
directed by that master of screencraft, 
Marshall Neilan. Its total cost was close 
to three hundred thousand dollars and it 
should easily prove the most spectacular 
and massive production since “ The Birth 
of a Nation.” 

The crooning melody and lyrics tinged 
with Southern romance, make the song a 
worthy companion to the picture. 



January Releases 


Meet Me in Bubbleland 
All the Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 
I'll Be Happy When The Preacher Makes 
You Mine 

Oh What a Pal Was Mary 
All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 
Poor Little Butterfly Is a Fly Girl Now 
Oh What a Pal Was Mary 
Down By the Meadowbrook 
Out of a Clear Sky 

Bye Lo 

Oh What a Pal Was Mary 
How Sorry You’ll Be (Wait’ll you See) 
Poor Little Butterfly Is a Fly Girl Now 
That’s Worth While Waiting For 

All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 
Bless My Swanee River Home 
Go Slow And Easy 
I’ll Be Happy When The Preacher 
Makes You Mine 

All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 

Oh What a Pal .Was Mary 
Bless My Swanee River Home 
Meet Me in Bubbleland 

Oh What a Pal Was Mary 

All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 



All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 
Bless My Swanee River Home 

You’re a Million Miles From Nowhere 
When You‘re One Little Mile From 

Back to God’s Country 
Meet Me in Bubbleland 

All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 
Bye Lo 

Meet Me in Bubbleland 

for Biggest Song Hits 


All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 
Bye Lo 

Bless My Swanee River Home 
Bye Lo 

Bless My Swanee River Home 
Hippity Hop 


All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shaken 
Bye Lo 

Bless My Swanee River Home 

All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 
Bless My Swanee River Home 

Bye Lo 

That’s Worth While Waiting For 

All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 
Q. R. S. 

Bye Lo 

Bless My Swanee River Home 
I’m So Sympathetic 
Wait’ll You See 

Down By The Meadowbrook 
Oh What a Pal Was Mary 
I’ll Be Happy When The Preacher 

Makes You Mine 


Oh What a Pal Was Mary 
All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 

I’ll Be Happy When The Preacher 

Makes You Mine 


Oh What a Pal Was Mary 
I’ll Be Happy When The Preacher 

Makes You Mine 

All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 
Hippity Hop 
Meet Me in Bubbleland 

All The Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 
Everyone Is Meant For Someone 
Poor Little Butterfly Is a Fly Girl Now 


Poor Little Butterfly Is a Fly Girl Now 






An exceptionally 
pretty song, all the 
rage now In vaude- 
ville and cabarets. 
Millions have heard 
and applauded it. 

What They re Saying About the Tatler 

Enclosed you will find a small dollar in ex- 
change for the Big “ Tatler/’ And believe me, 
dear Editor, The Tatler is just like a stimulant 
after a day’s work, especially now since we 
went " dry,” confound it ! 


619 San Bruno Ave., San Francisco, Cal. 

• * • 

The Tatler is a wonderful Magazine and I 
** sure ” appreciate each and every copy. 

HARVEY ADAMS. W. Leesport, Pa. 

• * * 

Was out of town the last two weeks, so I 
apologize for not joining sooner. 


4 State St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

I happen to have picked up one of your 
Tatler-Tip-Tnle-Topic books at a hotel and like 
it much ; and I see for the small sum of $1.00 
you have a real bargain. 


2d and Locust Sts., Evansville, Ind. 

• * • 

Am returning order-blank with $1.00 so I 
will not miss another number of your most 
interesting Magaziue. I “ sure ” do enjoy 
every bit of it and I’m sure I will enjoy the 
copy of music you so generously oflTer. 


1054 E. Ferry St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Just a note to thank you for your new copy 
of The Tatler. I have more than enjoyed the 
ones I have had and certainly appreciate your 
kindness. Your little Magazine is all that you 
say it is and more. 


723 Barry Ave., Chicago, 111. 



k Tn Old Kentucky” 

Kentucky is a 
grand old State, 
44 In Old Ken- 
tucky ” w a k a 
great old play, and 
here Is a song that 
Ih as big an both. 
This song will 
make more friends 
than the anti-pro- 
hibition movement. 

HVords and music 
1)1/ Anita Stctcart. 


A , eaorus 
lVe \ 

long - ing 

1=» J . r- 

fo be In old Ken - tuck-y, I can 

f*°3‘ ft 

s ? ?i pa 


i * - = 

“SH 1 J • 

fc 1 l =k l 1 1 Z 'L ■ A: 

- 1 " i 1 ' 


/ 0 .1 | i _| —■*-3 , . 

ny’s £lck . a - 

1 fe K r* J» -J - T 3 — jI - «--- t — *-£ 

nln-nics,__ will be thi 

/ J-ifr rr.-u-fr-ef 

• r fT~3j | 

tre with their band, to play“Dlx- ie - land’ 

m r-e,iij&s= 

=32= : *=*^ 

'for me. TheiVs a 

* 1 .1 — r J 

J J 


= 1 f' r ^r r — 

^ * ft 

0 J W- . 

sweet taoi 

, _P J» J — d 

i i 1 

m-taln girl in old 

fc." ■ ■ 1 = 

Ken . tuck-y 

j — 

She's my Mj 


— 13-1— -■L.§EE=j 

idge and her lore 1 will 

d — ) — A i — n-, 

1 j r-g 


- f 

-1.-C— = 

i r-i*-ru= 

j 1 

3 r 

Bp « -■ BaE h i 

^-1-— 7 

share, She will hitch 


up Queen Bess, W 

. J- - j- =*= 

^ ~*P ■ 

ell go drhr-lng 

P-Y p 

to hap-pl-ness, In old Ken- 


u ^ 

fc nH 

■ rf 

iD 3 '3- 4» 7 

-£=^-vJ J 



= P==#=3= 

Copyright, 1919, Waterson, Berlin & Snyder Co. 

Fill this out NOW! Don’t delay 


209 West 48th Street, 

New York City. 

I wish to enroll as a member of the TATLER MUSIC CLUB, the mem- 
bership to entitle me to a copy of The Tatler and a popular song hit each 
month for a year for one dollar. 

Enclosed find one dollar ($1) for which you will send me a copy of The 
Tatler and a popular song hit each month for the next year. 


Address 4 

The Toiler's New Year's Resolution: 


Everybody else is trying to profiteer on you, and to see how little 
they can give you for your money. 

The Tatler is going to take advantage of this situation and make 
friends of everyone by treating them square and being generous. 

We are prosperous and are going to share our prosper- 
ity with our readers! Why not? Life is too short to be 
mean and stingy! 

Now most of our subscribers know that not only do they make 
their friends whom they bring into The Tatler Music Club indebted 
to them for having been put on to a good thing; but they are also 
aware that a premium awaits them for every new member they get 
for the club. 

If you have not yet joined , kindly read and fill out the coupon on 
the opposite page. 

Should you already belong to our merry Circle, please get some 
other music-lover to fill it out ; but don’t forget the important little 
act of letting a dollar in any form convenient to you travel along 
with it. Upon its receipt we shall advise you as to what good thing 
is in store for you. 













The Test Of A Song Is Its Popularity 
You Can’t Get Away From That 

The Songs That Everybody Likes 
Are The Songs You Want 

Consequently Here Is the New List For You 
To Pick From: 

Bye Lo 

Bless My Stvanee River Home 

All the Quakers Are Shoulder Shakers 

You re a Million Mites from Nowhere 

Slow and Easy 

Dixie's Rolling Stone 


Genuine song hits, high class, permanent popular 
numbers. The seven leading songs in vaudeville, 
cabaret and the home. 





Strand Theatre Bldg. Broadway and 47tli Street 





Please mention Tub